Resurrected Power
by dvpdvpdvp
Summary: Miles, Charlie, and the gang travel to the Texas capital with Aaron and Priscilla. They intend to take the fight to the patriots, who have become close allies to Texas. However, their plans are thrown into chaos when they finally discover who is really in charge of the patriots.
1. Chapter 1

*** Fifteen miles north of Austin ***

They were just a few miles north of Austin. Charlie surveyed their little caravan. The Neville's were in one wagon, along with some supplies and a couple of her mercenaries. Another wagon had Connor, Aaron, and his former wife, Priscilla, along with a couple more of her troops. _Her troops._ Just the thought of that made her smile a bit. The final wagon had her mother, grandfather, Miles, and the last one of her soldiers. She and Monroe rode horses, scouting ahead, watching their backs, and whatever else their more nimble rides allowed them to do.

Aaron had shown up, ex in tow, a couple days ago along with some important intel. She was still pissed that he had managed to lose her all those weeks ago, but her happiness in seeing him again outweighed those feelings. Now they were on their way to Austin to hopefully put a large dent in the patriots' plan.

It was good timing, too. Everyone, except maybe her grandfather, had been getting antsy, looking for a fight. Everyone seemed off a little and this little excursion was a perfect distraction. She thought back at what transpired in New Vegas, along with what Miles filled her in on what had happened in Willoughby. She decided if there hadn't been a move to make, she was sure the group would start turning on each other.

* * *

*** One Week Ago, just outside Willoughby ***

Charlie got a startled case of déjà vu. She had felt Monroe turn to look at her from his driver's seat on the wagon. She turned to look at him, but he had already looked back to the road ahead. She was coming back home, though fortunately this time, the presence of Bass Monroe was expected.

He had been unusually quiet on the trip home. At first she thought it was his bruised ego, knowing he would have to face Miles basically with empty hands, only to have Charlie there with five men. The thought had made her smile the entire way back to Texas and somehow she knew _he_ knew why she was smiling. But as she watched him, his interaction with the men was relaxed, like he accepted his place…grudgingly, but accepted. No, it wasn't that. It was Connor. Something had changed between them. It was awkward, uncomfortable, fraught with underlying emotion. She wanted to ask him about it, but she didn't feel it was her place.

She had tried to talk to Connor the previous night, but he wasn't interested in talking either. Her vanity liked to think he was still sore from her rejection of him after their dalliance, but she knew better. Something had happened between him and his father.

She didn't know what to say to the man now sitting next to her. "I'm here for you?" No. She had never been there for him, no matter how often he seemed there for her. "Do you wanna talk about it?" No. She knew the answer to that. And throwing out a flippant "So, crazy last few days, huh?" didn't seem appropriate or effective, either.

Without thought, she reached out and patted his thigh. Startled, he looked down at her hand, then at her. Obviously he had been alarmed by what her reasons were, until he saw her face. He understood. She had no idea what to say to him, but she just wanted to acknowledge that he had gone through something. He gave her a small smile and nod then turned back to the horses.

* * *

*** Eleven miles north of Austin ***

Charlie scanned the horizon in front of her. She was a ways in front of the wagons, so it was a bit quieter and she could focus on making sure no one was near them. She heard a horse trotting up behind her and wondered if Bass had found something. She turned to look at him as he pulled his horse up alongside of hers and slowed to match her pace. He seemed nervous, but not urgent. This must be a personal issue.

She waited for him to speak, which took a while, but she didn't push him.

"Hey Charlie, I needed to…" he started, but stopped and sighed. "I wanted to ask you…"

Geez, was he asking her out on a date? She looked at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"Look, I know we haven't really talked since we got back from New Vegas."

"Well, you've been avoiding me," Charlie drawled.

"No I haven't." Bass looked at her, shocked. Seeing the look on her face, he admitted that maybe he had been. "I've just had a lot on my mind."

They rode along in silence for a little while longer.

"When you rescued Connor and me, I noticed you weren't wearing your normal…"

God he looked pained. She was surprised that neither man had made a joke about her "rescue attire" and now she realized that, at least for Monroe, it wasn't a laughing matter. He knew what kind of person Gould was. He must have thought…

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

Damn. That is what he thought, and he's felt guilty about it all this time.

"It's OK, Bass." She thought maybe throwing him a bone and using his first name might make him relax. Looking at him, as if he was about to protest that it most certainly wasn't OK, she realized that he probably hadn't even noticed she said it. "Seriously. You're right. Gould had plans to use me…in that way, but they were stupid." She looked at him and he looked confused. "They chained me to the bed."

Now he looked confused and angry…and a little nauseous.

"With a really. Long. Chain." She gave him a pointed look with a smirk. He caught on quick and smiled with relief. Then smiled with amusement.

"Poor shmuck didn't stand a chance, huh?" He declared and galloped off back towards to wagons.

She heard his horse come to a stop and come back to her.

"Charlie? I know you hate me and think I'm a monster…and rightfully so. But I do care if you get hurt." She didn't think she and ever seen or heard him so sincere before. He galloped off again and she almost missed his "I'm glad you're OK."

* * *

*** One Week Ago, Willoughby ***

They arrived as the sun set and even with the lowered light Charlie could see the tension on Miles as he approached them. He didn't acknowledge her, or Connor, or the five strangers. He immediately approached Bass and indicated to him that they needed to talk and now. The two walked off…away from the barn.

Connor tapped Charlie on the shoulder and gave her a "what do you suppose that is about?" look. She had no clue, but it couldn't be good.

"Connor, why don't you head inside and see if you can find out from my mom or grandpa what's going on while I get our guests settled?"

Connor agreed and headed off to the barn. Charlie talked with her men to determine the best place for them. She figured as members of a war clan, they weren't expecting fancy accommodations, but she also didn't want to treat them like crap, either.

After getting the men situated in tents in a nicely defendable position near the barn, she wondered why Connor hadn't come back yet. She looked out across the way and while it was dark now, she was sure she could see Miles and Monroe still talking outside. She couldn't make out any details so she had no idea if they were reminiscing about old times or if they were about to come to blows over something.

She got to the barn and went below. "Connor, why didn't you…" she started but came up short. Standing before her was her family and Connor…and two Nevilles. Dumbfounded, she turned to look at her mother, hoping for some rational explanation. She wasn't getting one. Her grandfather, who still looked a little weak from his recent illness stood silently in the corner. Connor was quiet too, though he seemed angry, staring at the two strangers.

"Charlie," Tom acknowledged.

It was at that moment she had an epiphany. She realized that most of her hatred towards Sebastian Monroe for destroying her family rightfully belonged to this man instead. HE was the one who came for her father and let things get out of hand, leading to his death. HE was the one who chose to take Danny from her. She must have been telegraphing her intentions because her mother spoke her name to get her attention.

At that moment, Jason Neville decided he needed to speak up. "Charlie. My father and I don't want to cause any trouble. The patriots have my mother. All we need is Monroe and they'll let her go." He tried to put on some charm…charm that she would have fallen for a year ago. Now, especially when comparing him to Mr. Charming himself…Sebastian Monroe…it just seemed a little creepy. _He_ seemed a little creepy…like something had happened that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Her confusion must have shown on her face because he added, "It's only Monroe."

At that moment Connor decided to speak up. "Only? And what do you mean 'all you need is Monroe'?"

Tom, looking rather unimpressed, turned to him and simply asked, "And you are?"

* * *

*** Seven miles north of Austin ***

Charlie and Bass were riding side by side keeping an eye out to make camp. Miles didn't want to get too close to the capital and he was already getting antsy that maybe they were too close as it was. Bass smacked Charlie on the shoulder to get her attention.

Pointing off to the distance, "over there. I'm gonna go check it out." He started to ride off as he heard a quiet "be careful" from his riding partner and he couldn't help the delighted smile that split his face.

Charlie rode back to the wagon with Miles and her mom. "Bass is checking out a place to make camp. He should be back in a bit." Miles just stared at her. Confused, she elaborated, "since you didn't want to get closer to Austin. So we need to find…"

"Yeah, yeah. Well, if _Bass_ thinks it would be a good spot, it probably is. _Bass_ is pretty good at that. We'll just wait for _Bass_ to return."

Now she realized her mistake. Since her epiphany a week ago, _Sebastian Monroe_ had morphed from _Monroe_ to _Bass_ in her mind. It was only a matter of time before it happened out loud. Glaring at her uncle and not cowering to his disapproving look, she rode off to let the others know they'd be stopping to camp soon.

* * *

*** Four Days Ago, Willoughby ***

It had been tense at their little hide out. Too many people and too many agendas. Too many grudges and too much distrust. Monroe and Connor had been staying with Charlie's men. Neither of them trusted the Nevilles, though she could tell Connor was conflicted about leaving. She knew it had to do with Jason being close in proximity to Charlie.

She used the situation to her advantage as much as she could. She talked with Jason a lot and spent time with him. She wasn't interested in him, but he didn't need to know that. What she needed to know was what was different about him. So they talked.

They talked about what they did after the Tower. She talked about her almost assassination of Monroe; he talked about his journey to the east coast. She talked about her return to Willoughby; he talked about finding his mom and what happened in D.C. She knew he was leaving something out. She prodded a little more, but before she could get it out of him, he changed the subject…to a more personal topic.

"Are you and that Connor guy involved?" he finally asked.

"What? How is that your business?" she really didn't care one way or the other if he knew. If she spilled personal info, maybe he would, too. But she didn't need to just give it away.

"It's not. I'm curious. That guy seems to really not like me and he doesn't even know me."

"Well, you and your dad had come here to take his dad away…probably to his death," she reminded him.

"That didn't answer my question."

How could a guy seem so unfeeling and pathetically needy at the same time, she wondered. "We had a fling a couple weeks ago. It was just a onetime thing. Not sure if he was happy about that outcome or not."

He seemed relieved and more focused about something. She wasn't sure she liked where his mind might be going. He leaned in to kiss her. She let his lips lightly brush hers before she pulled away.

"Jason, stop," she pressed her hand against his chest for added effect. "I'm sorry, but there is just something different about you that makes me…I don't know. I feel like you are hiding something from me and after what has happened the last year, I've been having trouble trusting people." She hoped she hadn't laid it on too thick, but she figured this was her best play at finding out what happened to him.

It worked. He told her about the re-education center, the torture, the drugs, the mindless killing, and his father saving him from that. She listened with intensity. This was not good. The patriots were creating their own killing machine army. She felt bad for him and she was able to reconcile his change to what he went through, but her main focus was the intel.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jason's lips again. He was more aggressive, or at least more insistent, this time. She realized that he figured since he opened up, she trusted him more, and that meant she was OK to move forward. She struggled a little and was about to shove him away when they were interrupted…

"So, what's going on here?" Sebastian Monroe asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

The two separated with Jason standing up to the former general informing him in no uncertain terms that it was none of his business and that he should continue on his merry way.

What a dick, Bass thought. "Sorry, but Rachel was looking for her daughter."

Charlie was relived she had an out. She stood to go without so much as a "later" to Jason and hurried off with Bass.

"What does she want?" Charlie asked.

"Huh?" Monroe seemed confused for a moment. "Oh, nothing. I haven't seen your mom all day. You just looked like you needed an escape."

Charlie stopped in her tracks. "I could have handled it."

"Yeah, I know. But I thought no bloodshed would be better than bloodshed," he smiled.

"I think you just like saving me."

You have no idea, he thought.

* * *

*** Seven miles north of Austin ***

They set up camp. Charlie's men gravitated towards each other, while her family and friends stuck together. The Nevilles stayed close, with Jason seeming like he wanted to be near her. Her men seemed to sense her discomfort and set up between her and the Nevilles. Bass decided at that moment he liked the men Duncan had sent.

Somehow she ended up between her men and Bass Monroe. Something that didn't go unnoticed by Miles. He tried his hardest to mix it up…they got settled; he called a quick meeting to discuss tomorrow's plans. They got settled again; he decided Bass needed to take watch. Miles was not happy when one of Charlie's men took watch instead. Eventually, Miles gave up.

After finally settling down, Charlie rolled onto her side and realized she was facing Bass. She also realized he was looking at her. She couldn't help the grin that formed on her face and Bass couldn't help his responding smile.

They talked softly into the night. Mostly about the plan to cut the patriot's head off the patriot monster. Ever since Aaron and his ex-wife showed up along with his vision of a mysterious true leader of the patriots in Austin, the group had decided that this may be their only chance to deal a decisive blow to the patriots in these early days of the resistance.

The two argued for a good twenty minutes on the merits why each should be the one to do the honors: "they were behind the blackout", "they blamed me for nuking Philly and Atlanta", "they wouldn't expect a young girl to be trouble, "they _executed_ me", et cetera, et cetera.

Eventually, after a several hours Bass finally broached the subject they had both been avoiding.

"What's going on between us?"

Charlie looked away for a moment, only to be brought back by a further comment.

"Are you going to deny…"

"No. No. I just don't know how to answer that." She looked at him without barriers or walls. Lately, he was one of the few people she truly felt she could be open with, without fear of judgment.

"But there is something." He looked hopeful…and uncertain.

She smiled at him. It was unusual to catch Monroe being vulnerable. It made her heart melt a little. "Yeah, Bass. There is something. I just don't know what." She seemed a little uncertain, too. She may feel a connection to him; she may feel open with him. But, that doesn't change the fact that so many people have let her down.

He reached over and grasped her hand, entwining his fingers with her and rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "We don't need to label it or think about the future of it…as long as we don't run from it."

It amazed her that a man she considered to be off-the-rails-crazy for so long could make more sense than most people.

He continued, "Being near you makes me feel…better. I don't know how to explain it." He seemed a little embarrassed by his admission. "That sounded a little sappy, didn't it?"

She laughed. "Yeah a little." She reached out and touched his shoulder.

"I'm pretty sure I could get even sappier." He smiled, embarrassed.

Sighing, she agreed. "I know. I understand what you're saying, Bass. I don't know what this is or where it's heading, but I feel…better…with you around, too." She looked around camp and decided it was pretty late. "Get some sleep."

He laid his head down, but didn't release her hand. He tugged it a little until she looked at him. "Good night…Charlotte."

Smiling a knowing smile, she replied, "Good night, Sebastian."

* * *

*** Two Days Ago, Willoughby ***

Aaron and his ex-wife showed up with tales of nanotech and weird dreams and former friends and most importantly, a vision that the true leader of the patriots would be in Austin for a week, arriving in a few days. And that leader wasn't U.S. President Davis. Immediately plans were made and wagons packed. Without more detailed intel, though, Bass wasn't sure how much would be accomplished. But he knew, just as Miles did, they needed to be there and try to work out a plan to slay the dragon.

They traveled towards Austin with a plan to set up camp just outside the city limits. The place would be crawling with patriots and Texas Rangers so they needed to keep a safe distance. Once they set up camp, Bass, Charlie, and one of her men would head in to try and get a visual on the patriot leader. Neville, Jason, and another of Charlie's men would keep close to the President Davis. Miles, Rachel, and a couple more of Charlie's men would do recon on the security in the city. And Connor, Aaron, and the last of Charlie's men would see if they could find anything nano-related in Austin. Gene and Priscilla would stay at the camp.

Bass and Charlie had a talk with Aaron trying to get a description, even a general one, of this mysterious leader, but he insisted he never saw him in his visions. Never heard him, even. He only knew it was a man just by the other's dialog in the vision. He was able to describe the people from his vision who had been near the leader, but there was no guarantee they would always be near him, if at all. In the end, Bass decided they would just have to find the most heavily guarded person in Austin.

Piece of cake.

* * *

*** Morning, Seven miles north of Austin ***

The four groups set out on their own missions, each planning on returning later that evening unless breaking off would impede the mission. Charlie waved at Miles and her mom as they headed out in a different direction. She looked back at Connor and Aaron, still at camp, as they prepared to leave in the next couple hours. She turned to Bass to see him give a wave to his son. He looked worried, but Connor had the less worrisome mission. Well, trying to keep track of Aaron can be more worrisome, but at least they could keep their distance more than the other groups will be able to.

"He'll be fine." Charlie whispered comfortingly to Bass. He nodded without looking at her, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. "Aaron will keep him safe." Suddenly, Bass snapped his head to look at her questioningly and she grinned at him.

"Thanks. Smart ass." He responded.

After a few hours of travel, the three companions got close to the center of town. They knew they were on the right track as patrols and security got heavier and heavier. They managed to find their way through back alleys and shadows and took up a vantage point to spy on a suspicious looking building. The security around it was formidable.

"Bob, hand me the binoculars," Bass asked the man from Duncan's clan.

The man just sat there and stared at the former general.

"Are you kidding me?" He asked and then looked at Charlie. "Do I really need to get _you_ to ask him to hand me the binoculars?" He looked back at the man, who still hadn't moved. "Taking that whole 'they only take orders from Charlie' thing a bit seriously, aren't you?"

The man simply replied unamused, "my name isn't Bob," and handed him the binoculars.

Charlie leaned closer to not-Bob and spoke under her breath. "He's just going to continue to call you Bob, so you might as well embrace it."

Not-Bob looked back at her from the corner of his eye. "I know."

Something caught Bass' eye and he handed the binoculars to Charlie and guided her to what he saw. "Isn't that two of the people Aaron described?"

She agreed. "Let's try to make our way in there to at least get eyes on this guy. Then we'll head back to camp. Maybe we'll even get lucky and get a clean shot before we have to leave."

The three headed towards the fortified building to sneak inside to get a look at the patriot leader.

* * *

After making it inside and skulking around for several hours, the three felt like they were progressively getting closer to their goal of getting eyes on the leader. They entered a room when suddenly a set of double doors opened with the sounds of a small group of men drifting towards them. The three ducked into various hiding spaces to wait on the intrusion.

Soon they realized that this was a meeting of top advisors and the leader. Upon this realization, Bass and Charlie decided now would be a chance to take out the leader. Charlie was closer, so she silently loaded her cross-bow. Bass would have her back and make sure they had a clear path to flee. Not-Bob, upon seeing the face of the leader, would escape at the same time Charlie made her move and make it back to camp to relay the information. If Charlie and Bass failed, someone still needed to be able to identify the man.

A few advisors left the room. No guards remained inside the room. If they were going to make a move, it would have to be now. Charlie stood and took aim and not-Bob, seeing the face of the girl's target, ducked out the way they had come in. Bass waited for her to fire her shot and was dumbfounded when she dropped her aim and moved toward where the patriots were sitting for their meeting.

The remaining advisors made to intercept her and grabbed ahold of her. Bass dove from his hiding spot to try to reach her. He managed to disarm the two men who had a hold of her and went to grab her, but she fought him off and turned back around to the leader of the patriots, who had remained sitting and by all outward appearances, seemed calm…happy even.

Charlie seemed anything but. In shock and with disbelief, she only managed to whisper out one word:

"Dad?"

Bass knew he had to get her out of there…any hope of assassinating the patriot leader was now out the window. He tried for Charlie again and this time, he was able to lay eyes on the leader. He hesitated. Sitting there, alive and well, was one Ben Matheson.

"Charlie, come on." Bass begged her, but she resisted him again.

By this time, the guards from the exterior of the room had entered. Bass knew it was over. He only hoped that Ben Matheson wouldn't hurt his own daughter. He raised his hands in a non-threatening manner and got down on his knees.

Ben distracted his daughter by beckoning her to him while the guards dragged Bass out of the room. The last thing he could hear was Ben telling his daughter that it hurt him that she wanted to kill him.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: This first part is pretty dark. You can skip it and begin at the un-italicized text without missing any real plot.

*** Several Days Later, Austin ***

_The door to her cell swung open. Charlie, sitting on the cot on the far side of the room, tried to be brave, but she was terrified. She was alone and the man standing in front of her had a look in his eyes. Hate? Lust? She wasn't sure. She was only sure she needed to find a way out. Panicked, she quickly glanced around the room looking for an escape. But there wasn't one. The room was sparse. A cot, a sink, a mirror, and a barred window._

_This brought laughter. "You aren't getting out of here, little girl."_

_It was lust. She knew it without a doubt as the man slowly walked towards her, pulling off his shirt. He saw the look of panic on her face. "Oh, yeah." He tauntingly smiled and whispered to her "This is going to happen. You are a hot, brave, young thing that has driven me nuts since you jumped up to make your stand."_

_He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards him. She tried to struggle against him, but this just turned him on more. She looked in his hooded eyes and she was mesmerized with fear. _

"_This can go easy for you or hard," he began. He leaned closer to her ear and whispered "I hope you make it hard." With her frozen with fear, he went in for the kill. "You're family's well-being may depend on it. Where is your uncle Miles, anyway?"_

_That did the trick. She would be compliant…enough…for him. He stood next to the cot, facing her. He stood between her legs that were hanging off the side. Keeping his breathing under control, he issued his first command. "Undo my pants." _

_She looked at his buckle and zipper, then back up at him. Unhappy with her response, he added a forceful, "NOW!"_

_Charlie hesitantly undid the man's belt buckle, button, and zipper. This activity caused the man's eyes to fall closed and for him to sigh in approval. Charlie wanted to cry. Or throw up._

"_Good. Now take out my dick." Upon another moment of hesitancy, he opened his eyes and looked down upon her. Charlie thought he looked eight feet tall right now. She reached into his underwear and grabbed ahold of his penis and pulled it out into the open. The man gasped and sighed again._

"_Too bad your uncle isn't here to see what a good girl you're being." He taunted her._

_She didn't know what to do. She was trapped, sitting on a cot in a cell, with a strange man's genitals mere inches from her face._

"_Touch it." He whispered, but then added, "Gently."_

_She did as she was commanded. Clumsily stroking him while tears began falling down her cheeks. He moved suddenly and she thought she may have done something to anger him, but she found herself pushed down onto the cot, the man groping her and pulling off her clothes. Panting, and erect, the man pushed her knees apart and ran his hand across her opening, laughing when he found it a little wet. _

_Charlie was horrified that her body was aroused. The man must have noticed this and laughed a little more. "Relax, it's just your body's response to…stimuli. Don't worry, your brain will catch up to your body soon enough and you will be screaming for me by choice."_

_He pushed himself into her and began pumping immediately. She was angry at herself for just lying there…not fighting…but she was paralyzed. She felt overpowered and trapped. She closed her eyes and tried to picture herself somewhere…anywhere…else but his constant panting and grunting wouldn't let her mind leave._

_He flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her hips up to his groin. He entered her again, just as forcefully as the first time. This time, the force of his body would jar hers, forcing unintentional grunts from her. This seemed to turn the man on more as his speed and force increased. Still crying she looked out in front of her and was horrified to find the man watching her face through the mirror. She then saw him lower his eyes to her breasts, which were bouncing with every one of his thrusts. She lowered her head in shame._

"_I will be here every day," he drawled. "Oh the things I am going to do to you while…"_

_She heard a door slam somewhere outside her cell of terror._

* * *

The slamming door had Bass' eyes jumping open and he immediately turned over a puked the contents of his stomach…which wasn't much more than bile and a little water. He returned to his back, breathing heavily with fear and stared up at the ceiling of his cell. He was nearly naked, save for his post-blackout boxers. The cell was cold and damp. Without a bed to sleep on, he lied on the cold cement floor and the cold had seeped its way in to his bones. He tried to control his breathing. "It was only a dream. I didn't hurt her. It was only a dream. I didn't hurt her." He whispered repeatedly to himself.

He wasn't sure if it was the hypothermia, the lack of food, or the beatings he had been getting, but his dreams had been racked with such terrors since he had been locked up. And each time he woke, it was taking him longer and longer to remember that he had not, in fact, ever touched Charlie when she and Miles had arrived in Philly all that time ago.

Was he _completely_ sure it was a nightmare and not a memory, though? He was a monster. Was it his brain forcing him to re-evaluate himself and all the horrific things he had done. Or was it simply his mind playing out for him…in all the terrible revulsion…what could be happening to Charlie right now.

He hadn't seen her since he got dragged out of that room with Ben Matheson sitting in it. Ben. How could he be alive…and with the patriots? He tried to think up some rational explanation, but he was done. These people knew what they were doing. Well, if their goal was to sap every ounce of energy he had out of him.

They hadn't interrogated him. They just beat him to ensure he understood his existence would be painful. They barely fed him…and you know you're hungry when you longed for the crap "food" Gould had offered up to you. And they kept him in cold isolation. There was nothing in his cell…no bed, no sink, no window, no warmth. The only light drifted in from a light down the hall. The only thing in this cell was cold slick stone to lie on and a hole in the ground to shit and piss down. And scoop his vomit away.

He learned the hard way after the first time his nightmare sent him to vomiting that if he didn't keep his cell clean, the guards would hose it down. It was cold enough in here. Being cold and wet would likely be a death sentence…at least in the condition he was in now.

He only hoped that his first instinct was right. That Ben Matheson would not hurt his daughter and that she was not facing the same conditions he was. He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep. And hoped he wouldn't dream.

* * *

"Where is he?"

If Ben was honest with himself, he thought his daughter was one of the most stubborn people he had ever known. And he knew Rachel Matheson. He was getting tired of the questions. He didn't even understand why she was with General Sebastian Monroe. Sure, he heard stories that Monroe had been executed, though the Texans had obviously jumped the gun a little in that proclamation…that Bass and his brother had joined forces…again. He knew his ex-wife…and that was how he thought of her…was with Miles, so he figured Charlie was there, too. He just couldn't wrap his mind around Charlie and Monroe interacting on any sort of personal level.

He looked up to find his daughter staring at him, waiting for an answer.

Sighing, he finally responded to her. "He's here, someplace safe."

The scowl on her face was amusing. Apparently, her bullshit detector had been honed during his absence. It saddened him to think that his naïve, sweet, idealistic daughter had turned so hardened. It was probably Monroe's fault. He started to get angry, but then thought about Monroe's "safe place" and felt better. He would reap tons of misery on that man for all he had done.

"I. Want. To. See. Him."

"I'm wounded honey. Do you think I am trying to pull one over on you?"

Taking in a cleansing breath, she gritted out, "all I know is I saw you die over a year ago. I have fought and killed and grieved and I don't understand why you are with these so called patriots!"

"So called?" He gave his daughter a chilling look. One that made her step back and dial down her obvious anger. He relented a little and relaxed his expression. "Come. It's time for dinner."

They entered the dining room and sat down to a lavish meal. Charlie looked at her food and could only think of the starving people around the country, and here she was, with her formerly-dead father, eating in the way she would imagine (and get angry at) Sebastian Monroe did during the time of the republic. She put her fork down.

"Are you not hungry, honey? Are you feeling OK?"

She was about to answer him, when she decided she only had one thing to say to him. "I want to talk to him."

And that was pretty much how the meal went. Ben would try to talk to his daughter…ask questions about her life in the last year, talk about Danny, and so forth. Her only response was the same: "I want to talk to him."

Ben had patiently put up with Charlie's "tantrum" as he thought of it. He didn't force her to eat or be civil. After a while, he stopped talking and just finished his food. After dinner, he had Charlie escorted back to her room without a word.

* * *

Bass woke up to being lifted and dragged from his cell. He was being taken for another beating. The guy the patriots had was no Strausser, and for that, Bass was thankful. The brute had no imagination, no true blood lust. That didn't mean the guy couldn't hit. And they always bound his hands, so it wasn't like he could defend himself or block the blows. It was getting old, but at least during these times he could warm up a little.

The patriots must have caught on to that because once Bass had been positioned and bound, they doused him in very cold water, preventing him from warming up. He figured they would douse him again before they put him back. Maybe the Imposter-Strausser, as Bass thought of him, was evil…just not as flamboyant.

* * *

Charlie lied on her bed and tried to sleep. It was still early in the evening, but there was nothing else to do. If she didn't sleep, she would think. If she thought, she would worry about Bass. Deep down, she was afraid he was dead…that he had been dead for days. She absent-mindedly wiped the tears that spilled from her eyes. She wanted him here right now. She was so confused and he, surprisingly, had a calming effect on her.

No, he wasn't dead. He just…wasn't.

Sleep eluding her, she thought back over the last few days beginning with seeing her father. She had been shocked but after the shock wore off, she thought that it had to have been a trick. Somehow the patriots had found someone who looked like her dad or made someone to look like him. But why? Over the last few days, though, she discovered even if they had found a look-a-like, there was no way they could have faked his memories…and he knew too much of their life after the blackout, after her mom left, after they settled in Wisconsin. It was him.

But he had changed. Maybe it was the patriot uniform he wore, but he seemed colder, more distant, less open and trustful. But he was her dad and once she got used to the idea of him being alive, she realized that she needed to find out where Bass was. She asked her dad, but he was evasive. She tried to pry information about him out of her dad, but he resisted and deflected. She thought about getting information about the patriots from him, but it would be too obvious. So she listened. Anytime he spoke with any of his advisors, she tried to glean information from their conversations, which wasn't easy. They were always careful to speak softly so as to not be overheard.

So, she refocused on finding Bass. Once she did, he would know what to do. He always did. Who was she kidding? She had no business being in charge of Duncan's men. Bass was the real leader…she was just playing make believe. She was about to demand to speak to her father and beat it out of him if she had to, when there was a knock at her door. She opened it, putting on her best "don't fuck with me" expression first.

"Ma'am. Mr. Matheson has ordered me to escort you to see the prisoner."

She simply nodded…keeping her emotions in check…and followed the man. She wasn't sure why, but hearing Bass referred to as simply "the prisoner" made a pit form in her stomach. She knew he was being held, but hearing it in such stark language didn't bode well.

She followed the soldier down in to the basement and through several tunnels. She had no idea there were such a tunnel network below Austin. She didn't know if the Rangers built them, if the patriots did, or if they had been there for most of Texas' history. They looked old, though. They finally came to a door and Charlie followed the man through. _This must be where the cells were_, she thought. It was dank and cold. And she was worried. She knew he wouldn't be lounging in an overstuffed bed eating bon-bons, but nothing really prepared her for what she saw.

Curled into a fetal position on a cold, damp floor in nothing more than wet boxers was a bruised and battered Bass Monroe. He didn't even seem to be aware that there was anyone else present.

"Open the door." Charlie demanded.

"That wasn't my orders." Replied her guide. "You wanted to see him and speak to him. You've seen him. Feel free to talk to him." The man seemed more put out than anything.

Charlie crouched towards the ground, trying to lean through the bars. "Bass?" She called out softly. He didn't move. She stood and rounded on the man. "Open. The. Damned. Door. NOW!"

Sensing that it would be easier to just open the door and let her in than argue with her, he unlocked the door and let her in.

She immediately ran to the man lying on the ground. "Bass? Bass?" She practically slid on her knees the last half of the cell. She reached him and turned him over on his back. What she saw made tears well up in her eyes. His eyes were slightly sunken in, bags readily apparent under them. His lips had a slight blue tinge to them. He began shivering as soon as she moved him. His skin was too cold to the touch and she tried to hold him close to share her body's warmth.

Finally his eyes fluttered open, but his uncontrollable shivering made speaking nearly impossible. "You're…O…K…" he finally managed to get out.

"Yeah, baby, I'm fine." She nearly cried. All this time she has been warm and comfortable and fed and he has been down here withering away. Even though they stuck to his body because of the dampness, she could tell that his boxers were loose on him. "Come, get closer to me," she said as she pulled him halfway into her lap.

Still shivering, he declared, "Oh. You are _so_ warm," as he tried to burrow into her warmth as much as possible. She lifted her shirt so that his bare chest could press against her naked, warm skin. She didn't ask what had happened or if he was OK. She just sat there, trying not to shiver herself feeling his cold. She glared at the man standing outside of the cell. He looked like he really couldn't care less about the state of the prisoner. Charlie turned back to Bass and reviewed his body as he seemed to try to crawl closer to her, even though he was about as close as he was going to get.

He had bruises of varying colors, likely received every day since they had been taken. Taken. More like surrendered. He was going through this because she hesitated and didn't assassinate the patriot leader…her father. She let out a wuthering sigh and held Bass closer. She began whispering to him. "I'm going to get you out of here. I promise. I'll get you some clothes and something to sleep on. And I will get you out of here."

He rolled over and looked at her, haunted. "No. Don't do anything that could jeopardize you. I'll be fine. Really." He wasn't very convincing. "Charlie, please, I couldn't live with myself if you were harmed while trying to help me."

"You don't get to have a monopoly on saving people, Bass."

"Charlie, please."

"Just lie here and get warm."

"Promise me you won't…"

"I promise I won't jeopardize my safety." She promised, though she didn't explain that she didn't feel that speaking to her father about how unacceptable this was fell into that category.

He nodded through his shivering and enjoyed her warmth. You know a man is cold when his skin is pressed against an attractive woman's skin and all he can think about is warmth…nothing else.

He had had serious doubts about being able to survive through the night with his wet clothing. He had wrung out his boxers when he was put back into the cell, but it hadn't helped much. He was going to have to strip down to nothing just to have a chance at not freezing to death, but at least now, thanks to Charlie's warmth, his core temperature would have a little more leeway.

After too short of time, her guide indicated that she had been her enough and if she argued he would report back that she tried to break him out and she would never be allowed back down here. She looked back down at Bass' face, which was in her lap now. He nodded to her that it was OK for her to leave. She nodded that she understood. She hesitated and looked at the guard and then looked back at Bass. She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. She didn't want the kiss to end, but she knew she couldn't make it last. Bass kissed her back and when she pulled away and looked at him, he seemed happier and more at peace.

She was definitely going to get him out of here.


End file.
